


The Funeral

by Zighana



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Bisexual Male Characters, Character Death, Drama, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Infidelity, M/M, Secrets, Spoilers, takes place after s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zighana/pseuds/Zighana
Summary: After three years of not speaking with his little brother, Oscar gets word that Cesar passed away and is forced to go back to Freeridge to plan his funeral.
Relationships: Jamal Turner/Original Female Character(s), Oscar "Spooky" Diaz/Canon Female Character, Oscar "Spooky" Diaz/Original Female Character(s), Ruby Martinez/Cesar Diaz, Ruby Martinez/Jasmine Flores, Ruby Martinez/Monse
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	1. The Visit

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Season 3 of On My Block. If y'all haven't watched it yet...DO NOT READ THIS. Some of this has spoilers in here so DO NOT READ.

**5 Years Later**

When Oscar saw a deputy patrol car pull up to his driveway, he can’t shake the sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t had a run in with the law in five years, or he’d formed a new identity in Bakersfield as Oscar Diaz, a family man and stay-at-home dad with an ambitious lawyer for a wife. When that deputy came strolling to the front door, Oscar’s teardrop tattoo burns like a scarlet letter and every negative memory in his past comes full force.

His heart rate skyrockets when the polite knocking echoes through the paper-thin walls. Sliding off his dish gloves, he opens the door.

“Oscar Diaz?” The deputy asks. She’s a stocky and short little thing, her hat comically larger than her head. 

“Who’s asking?” Oscar asks cautiously.

The short woman takes off her hat and places it over her heart.

“I regret to inform you that your brother, Cesar Diaz, has been found deceased…”

White noise rings through his ears. He can barely feel himself breathe, his palms are shaky and his stomach is tearing itself apart. 

“Excuse me?” He chokes out. The short deputy’s expression softens.

“Let’s go inside.”

~~~

Through the white noise, Oscar pieces together what’d transpired: Cesar was shot in the back of his head and dumped in the same forest Cuchillos was buried in all those years ago. He’d been dead for roughly two weeks and had to be identified by his dental records. 

The deputy is asking questions and clasping a hand on his shoulder in a gesture meant to be comforting, but it only sets him on edge.

“When’s the last time you talked to your brother?”

_Cassandra screams in terror as Oscar slams Cesar against the wall, his hand wrapped around his throat._

_Oscar gets in Cesar’s face, Spooky finally poking through after all these years,_

_“You come near this house, or I see you anywhere near my wife or my kids...I will _fucking_ kill you.” He hisses in Cesar’s face, before throwing him against the table._

_“Get your shit and go. You are _done_!”_

“Three years ago.” Oscar answers, fumbling for the pack of Marlboro’s hidden in between the couch cushions. He lights up. 

“I again apologize for bringing you this tragic news...”

“Are we done here?” Oscar snaps. He takes a shaky breath and rubs his temples.

“I got to coordinate...his funeral arrangements. And make some phone calls.”

The deputy nods.

“I understand. I offer my condolences, Mr. Diaz.”

“It won’t bring him back, so don’t.”

She’s gone after that. He watches through his kitchen window the police car driving down the street and collapses over the sink, letting out the scream he held in for so long. 

~~~

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Cassandra asks for the fifth time. Oscar is zipping up the last of his suitcases. 

“I’ll be fine, Sandra. Promise.” He reassures her.

“Sure you don’t want me to come with you to pay my respects?”

“No. You got to make your Chicago trip, no exceptions. This is something I have to do alone.”

Cassandra frowns. 

“Call me when you get there.” She says. 

“You have my word.” He replies. His father comes into the room, his four-year-old son Carlos held in his arms.  
“All set?” He asks Oscar. 

“Yeah, Pop.” He says. He looks at his son and swallows the knot in his throat.

He looks just like Cesar when he was little, down to the dimple in his left cheek. 

“I love you, Carlito.” He tells his son, kissing his forehead. 

He walks into the pink and frilly bedroom where his daughter lies sleeping in her crib. 

“I’ll be home soon, baby girl. I promise.” He whispers, kissing his fingertips and pressing it on her sleeping head.

He walks out of the house, suitcases in his hands before his family can see the tears fall. 

~~~

Freeridge looks so much different than what he remembered. Liquor stores are replaced with expensive coffee shops and restaurants, the diversity of people almost completely bleached out. His old neighborhood is the only section untouched by time, save for a few foreclosed homes and the old ladies chatting amongst themselves on the front porch gone. 

He pulls up to his old house and can’t stop the butterflies in his stomach. 

His old home is now a vibrant blue, with a flower garden in the front lawn where nothing grew before. Black kids are playing in the driveway while their father is in the open garage, working on his car. 

The front door swings open, and it’s a plump black woman with wide hips and a yellow sundress, holding a tray of ice cold drinks that obscure her face. 

“Who wants lemonade?” She asks, poking her head out from the drinks. Oscar sees the babydoll face, warm brown eyes, and his mouth goes dry.

“Cleo?” He calls out.The woman pauses and looks around. 

“Cleo.” He calls again. The woman sees him and freezes. Setting down the tray, she walks towards his car, anxiety written on her face.

“Oscar?” She asks. 

“It’s been a while.” He says.

Cleo looks away, her gold hoop earrings catching the sun’s glare. Her braids are replaced with ginger hair slicked down into a ponytail with wild curls that fall down her back. 

“You look good.” Oscar offers. 

“You do too.” She replies coldly, still not looking at him. Oscar nods his head. 

“I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah, see you around.” Cleo breathes out, giving him a thin smile. She backs away, her manicured nails making a soft scratching noise when they retreat from the window. 

She tends to the kids, her back towards him. One of the kids, a little black girl with afro puffs and copper skin, is drawing on the sidewalk.

She’s got his Santos rosary wrapped around her neck.

~~~

“I heard about it on the local news.” Ruby says, flipping through the catalog.

The funeral home is awfully cold and it smells of embalming fluid and death; Oscar feels his superstitions creep upon him. Ruby, dressed in black with skull jewelry and a dangling cross in one ear, isn’t fazed; he’s flipping through catalogs and directing grieving patrons to their respective destinations without batting an eye.

“I’d recommend cremation. Less pricey and I can cut a deal and get you a nice urn for 40% off.” Ruby deadpans, pointing to an urn with his black manicured finger. 

“I was going to...cremate and spread his ashes...over the beach we used to go to together.” Oscar says. Ruby hums.

“Sentimental. I like it.” Ruby adds.

“Are you always this cold-hearted? That’s your best friend and my brother we’re talking about.”

“Cesar and I haven’t spoken to each other in five years and we cut ties the second Monse moved away.” Ruby looks up, his fingers digging into the brochure and his jawbones popping out.

“And after what he did to _me_? To our _crew_?” His voice hits an octave and his body shakes. Ruby pauses, takes a deep breath, and regains composure. 

“What are you talking about…?” Oscar prods.

“It’s in the past, now. No point in bringing it up.”

“Tell me.”

“Ask Jamal.” Ruby grits out, flipping a page so hard the laminated page tears out.


	2. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleo and Oscar’s strained past is put on full display when Oscar visits Dwayne.

Oscar knew the first place to look for Jamal was his father’s restaurant. 

He walks in, amazed at how little the place changed; still the same clientele, still the Motown records playing softly in the background, still the sharp smell of Dwayne’s spicy barbecue sauce permeating the air. Oscar finally walks up to the window, where Dwayne’s blindly jotting down orders. 

Dwayne, for the most part, hasn’t changed much: Strong build, friendly but stern expression on his face, still has his haircut give or take a few spikes of gray hair sticking out. 

“I’ll have the Char-burger with extra grilled onions, please.” Oscar announces. Dwayne looks up and his expression lights up.

“I’ve been wondering when you would pop up. Heard you was in town a couple days ago.” He frowns. 

“My condolences for Cesar. He was a good kid.” He says, reaching through the window to squeeze Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar nods, squeezing his hand in response. 

“I’m here to make the arrangements and go back home. Planning the service right now with Ruby.”

Dwayne winces. 

“Made it a thing not to say the ‘R’ word around here.”

“Jamal and Ruby fell out too?”

Dwayne tightens his lips and nods. 

“Words were said, fists were thrown, _a coffin got body-slammed_. I’m hoping they’d cut it out because things are getting awkward at church.”

Dwayne writes down Oscar’s order and hands it to the line cook. 

“Where’s Jamal now?” Oscar asks, taking his number.

“Packing, probably. He’s got to go back to Houston soon.”

“Houston?” 

“Haven’t you heard? Jamal got drafted for college football. My baby boy’s going pro!” Dwayne turns around, his t-shirt with the number 15 with the word “Turner” printed in bold on the top.

“This is...a lot to take in.” Oscar says, scratching his head. Had he stepped into the Twilight Zone?

“I got a couple minutes. I can fill you in.” Dwayne nods his head to the far right table towards the window. 

Oscar takes a seat, checking his phone. Cassandra made it to Chicago safely, the kids are fine, his neighbor is once again asking about the pyrex pan Oscar's yet to return (and probably never will), and a possible job offer at a restaurant...in Pasadena. 

The restaurant door swings open. 

“Good afternoon, First Lady. What can I get you and the kids?”

Oscar turns his head to the entrance. 

There, holding hands with two kids and pushing a closed stroller, is Cleo. She’s put together: crisp black and white dress, sheer black pantyhose, pumps with a shawl draped over her shoulders, and her makeup expertly applied. The boy is wearing a beige suit with a yellow bowtie and the girl, no longer wearing Oscar’s Santos cross, is wearing a frilly pink dress with her hair in a multitude of pink, yellow, and white hair knockers that _click-clack_ with every swish of her head. 

The little girl locks eyes with Oscar, eyebrow raised and suspicious. She frowns, as if trying to form a thought, and then turns her head back to Cleo. She tugs at the hem of Cleo’s dress, pointing at Oscar, whining, _“Mama?”_ with a concerned tone. 

Oscar’s chest feels tight, like a cold bucket of water is dunked on him. His heartbeat quickens when the girl continues to stare at him and point, worry etched into her features.

_Does she know who he is?_

Whatever revelation the girl has about him isn’t being attended to; Cleo is still chattering away with Dwayne, her expression light and cheerful. 

The girl is crossing her arms and pouting, tapping the floor with her Mary-Jane and doily-socked foot. Cleo looks down at the girl and crouches low to her, cupping the girl’s face with her manicured nails. 

Oscar can’t hear what’s being said, but the girl points in his direction once more. 

And Cleo notices him this time.

Oscar steels himself, sinking deeper into his seat with his back to her.

“For LA, Freeridge is such a small town. You bump into _everyone_ here.”

Oscar can feel the ice in her words. Cleo is so close to him he could smell her Juicy Couture perfume. 

“Dominic, Gabriella,” Cleo announces calmly to the kids, “Sit somewhere I can see you. You can watch Doc McStuffins on my phone.” She digs into her purse and hands the kids her phone. The kids retreat to the table across from them, deeply engrossed in the show. 

Cleo slides into the seat across from Oscar, interlocking her fingers. Oscar sees her diamond ring, a larger rock compared to the one he gave to Cassandra when he proposed to her. 

“Any reason you got _our daughter_ scared shitless?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Oscar looks over at the kids warily before leaning in close.

“I didn’t mean to scare her.” He replies. He chuckles.

“You named her...after my mom.” He adds. Cleo deflates and looks away.

“I...heard about what happened with Cesar.” Cleo says somberly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Oscar hates how he still feels his heart flutter when they touch. 

“Going over the funeral arrangements with Ruby.” Oscar bites out, snatching his hand away like it’s been burned. 

“You can perform the service at my church, free of charge.” Cleo offers. Oscar pauses.

“ _Your_ church?” He asks. Cleo nods, holding up her wedding ring.

“I’m First Lady at St. Mary’s Baptist Church.”

“Wow, that’s…” Oscar struggles to find his wording. Cleo waves her hand. 

“Life, Oscar. Life is full of surprises.” She eyes his wedding ring.

“Even you,” She smiles, her tone sharp. 

“About what happened…” Oscar starts. Cleo squeezes his hand. 

“ _Don’t_.” She enunciates through gritted teeth, her manicured nails digging into his flesh. 

“Not while my kids are a literal earshot away.” 

The two look at the kids, deeply engrossed in whatever adventure Doc McStuffins has in store for them. 

“I was...what would be a good time to talk…?”

“Sorry, I got caught up with...Oh, you two know each other?” 

Cleo and Oscar look up at Dwayne, his apron tossed over his shoulder.

“We go way back. He’s...an old friend.” Cleo says with a tight smile. Dwayne cautiously eyes their interlocked hands and looks back at Oscar with a raised eyebrow. 

“Old friend,” Oscar agrees. Dwayne nods slowly and sits down beside them. 

“So, First Lady Cortes, how’s Pastor Robert?” 

“He’s doing fine, Brother Turner. He’s still doing Youth Service and took on another project,” she grimaces, “that old pick-up truck.” 

“He won’t give up on that thing, huh?” 

“ _Blessed is the ones who persevere under trial._ James 1:12.” Cleo recites. Dwayne chuckles.

“Send him my prayers. And today’s special free of charge.” 

“Brother Turner, you know I can’t--”

“--I insist, Cleo. You’ve been very helpful this past month.”

“That’s...no problem at all, Brother Turner. Say, I was just telling _Oscar_ that he could use our church for his brother’s service.”

Oscar and Dwayne exchange glances. Cleo checks her wristwatch. 

“Oh, dear. It looks like I’m late for Gabriella’s fitting for her Easter recital. Kids, come now! We have to go! Give Mama her phone back!” She calls to her kids, holding onto the stroller like a crutch. When her kids stand beside her, she tosses a polite smile towards the men before breaking off into a brisk walk, her kids struggling to keep up. 

Dwayne turns to Oscar, his expression suspicious. 

“It’s not my business, and I’m not one to gossip, but…” He leans in, “man to man, did you two ever...have a thing?” 

“She’s my...ex-girlfriend.” Oscar confesses. Dwayne lets out a breathy whistle. 

“Is there anything else going on between you two right now?” 

Oscar stares at his hand, the grooves Cleo’d left in his hand turning his skin pink. 

“No. We just...have a kid together.” 

Dwayne’s eyes widen and his mouth drops. 

“Your baby mama is the _pastor’s wife_?” He whispers. Oscar rubs the back of his neck and looks around. 

“Yeah, I guess so. We...aren’t on the best of terms. I left for Bakersfield...when she was pregnant.” 

Oscar clenches and unclenches his fists. 

“Saying it out loud sounds...fucking horrible.” 

“I may not...understand your circumstances completely, but you’re here now and it’s not the time or the place.” Dwayne warns.

“Both of you have separate lives, separate _families_ , from one another. It could get murky. People could talk. And lives could get ruined.” 

“I have a _daughter_ walking around with my cross around her neck.” Oscar whispers. He leans back into his chair. 

“I can’t leave this place with my head held high knowing that, now.” 

“You’ll work it out on your own time. But now, it’s about Cesar. And Cesar needs a peaceful send-off.”

“I’m going over the details with Ruby, but I was trying to figure out why Ruby and Jamal aren’t talking, and...where the hell is Monse?”

“San Francisco, last I heard.” 

“College?”

“Work. Some division of Google, I think.” 

“Great. Now I got to get a hold of Jamal and Monse to tell them Cesar died…” Oscar rubs his temples.

“Why not use social media?” 

“I haven’t been on it since my Santos days and even that was minimal.” Oscar winces, “too many people from my past I don’t want to connect with anymore.”

“I could spread the word out about his death. Maybe Monse will reach out.” 

“But who’s paying for the funeral services?” 

“We’ll figure it out as we go.” 

“I hope soon, because...Ruby is already talking about cremations and urns. I don’t even know if I want to keep some of his ashes…” Oscar rubs his hands over his face and cries. 

“I can’t believe I have to deal with this, right now. He was supposed to bury me, not the other way around.” 

“Hey, hey.” Dwayne pulls him into a hug.

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise you.”

~~~

Oscar had left Dwayne’s with Jamal’s number burning a hole in his phone, but still he sits across the blue house, watching his daughter play in her frilly pink dress. She’s jumping rope, her knockers and barrettes struggling to keep up with her energy. Her brother is sitting beside her, playing with dolls. 

Cleo is sitting on the porch swing, rocking the baby to sleep in her arms and singing. 

Pangs of heartache hit Oscar’s chest. He wants to get out of his car and be a part of this perfect picture, just for a moment…

His phone rings. 

Cassandra’s smiling face is on the Caller ID.

He answers, swallowing the guilt in his stomach.

“Hey, honey.” He answers. 

“Hey, Oscar. I just wanted to see how things are going in Freeridge. Haven’t heard from you in a couple of days and got worried.”

“I...met some old friends and we are planning out the funeral. I haven’t been able to call you. I’m sorry.” 

“Are you okay?” 

A silence. 

“No.” Oscar confesses.

“You want to talk about it?” She asks.

Oscar buries his face in his shoulder before responding. 

“I’ve done things, Cassandra. Things that I regret before I came to Bakersfield. I...I haven’t been completely truthful with you about what I’ve done.”

A pause.

“We can talk about that...when you get back. But for right now, whatever you’ve done, I forgive you and I love you. Okay?”

“I love you, Cassandra.”

“Love you too, Oscar. Come home soon, okay? The kids need you and so do I.” 

“Okay.” 

He ends the call. 

Cleo’s taken the kids inside and is now laid out on the porch swing, reading a book. What appears to be the father comes into view, wearing a white tank top and sweatpants. He kisses Cleo and sits down beside her, Cleo now resting on his lap and continuing to read her book.

This man looks so familiar, Oscar can’t quite place his finger…

 _“Where you goin’, homie?”_

_“Far. I don’t know where I’ll wind up at, but I gotta leave. Freeridge, the Santos, ain’t shit here for me.” Oscar huffs, zipping up the last of his suitcases. Sad Eyes leans against the doorway, arms crossed._

_“You know...if you need anything, I’m here. Just say the word.” Sad Eyes says, holding out his fist to bump._

Sad Eyes. 

Cleo’s husband is Sad Eyes. 

Oscar watches as his best friend holds Cleo in the same way he used to, stroking her side and brushing the stray hairs off her face. He watches Cleo’s content face as she sinks deeper into him, their bodies in sync with one another during a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Oscar feels his chest tighten and his stomach twist into knots. 

He drives to his hotel before it becomes too much for him.


	3. The Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar gets information.

“Spooky, how you been?” Jamal asks. He sits across from him, slicing through his steak and eggs with knife and fork. 

He’s a far cry from the scrawny mastermind Oscar has come to know; he’s strong in stature, jawline pronounced and his demeanor calm and mellow. He even has a tattoo on his neck and diamond studs in his ear. 

“I go by Oscar these days, homie.”

“Well okay, _Oscar_.” Jamal chuckles. 

“I don’t want to kill the mood, but—”

“—I already know. Dad gave me a heads up before you called. When is the funeral?” He looks up at Oscar with a blank expression. 

Oscar freezes.

“You haven’t been on the best of terms with Cesar, either. Haven’t you?”

“Nope.” Jamal says, twisting his mouth and shaking his head. 

“Shit’s complicated.”

“How complicated?” Oscar prods.

“We had a falling out because...he didn’t respect me as a friend. He thought he could bully me around and when I whooped his ass and exposed him in front of his homies, he stopped fucking with me.” 

“Expose?” Oscar quirks an eyebrow. 

“Ruby didn’t tell you?”

“Spill it.”

“Let’s put it this way...Ruby, Monse, and Cesar? They all was fucking each other.”

Oscar chokes on his coffee, much to the stares of confused diners.

“What?” Oscar rasps. 

“Ruby and Monse were a thing when she came back from college, which started some beef with Cesar because he thought she still belonged to him.” Jamal clicks his tongue. 

“One thing lead to another...and I guess Ruby and Cesar started fucking on the low until Monse caught them.” 

“I need to sit down for this.”

“You're already sitting down.” 

“This is too much.” Oscar runs his fingers through his hair. 

“So...my brother and Ruby were...a thing.” 

“Yup. That’s what Jasmine told me. And Ruby confirmed it.” Jamal tugs at his collar.

“If you pay close attention, on his right collarbone, he has a tattoo of Cesar’s initials and birthday. Cesar had Ruby’s on his left.” 

“How long were they...a thing?”

“Fuck if I know. Two years? Three? Jasmine thinks it’s longer.” Jamal muses, scooping another mouthful of egg into his mouth. 

“I don’t know too much; I stopped talking to them altogether when Monse left for boarding school.” 

“Are you coming to the funeral?”

“Of course. Even though we had beef, Cesar was still my friend. I have to pay my respects.” Jamal casts his eyes downward. 

“He was young. He…” Jamal stops himself.

“So, I heard you married, now. Who’s the lucky lady?” He asks.

“A ball-busting lawyer that took pity on me when I touched down in Bakersfield. When our daughter gets old enough, we're moving to Chicago.” 

“Chicago? Look at you! A father and husband. I never thought I’d say that about you.” 

“Yeah. The old me wouldn’t have thought that either.” Oscar chuckles. He takes a sip of his now cold coffee. 

“The funeral service is being held at St. Mary’s Baptist Church. Heard through the grapevine you can sing a good hymn.” 

“I didn’t bring Freeridge to glory with the championship in Choir for nothing. What song do you want me to sing?”

“I don’t know, something...gospel-y.”

“Well, there is this one song. My mom used to play it and sing it all over the house.”

“What song is it?”

“You Are My Friend, by Sylvester.”

“How does it go?”

 _“I’ve been looking around, and you were here all the time.”_ Jamal sings. 

“Give it a listen. I think you’ll like it.” 

Jamal leaves shortly after, another phone number in Oscar’s phone.

~~~

“Ay, Carmela, stop hitting your brother! Hello?”

“Hey, Jasmine, It’s Spooky. It’s been a while.”

A pause. 

“Hello?” Oscar asks cautiously. 

“Wow, I...It’s been a while.”

“Five years.”

“How’d you get my number…”

“Jamal. Listen, I need Monse’s contact information. Jamal says you got it.” 

“I have her direct line, but I don’t know if she’ll forgive me--”

“Cesar’s dead.”

Silence.

“Holy shit…” Jasmine gasps through the phone. 

“Yeah. The funeral is Sunday. It’s gonna be a small ceremony, but Monse needs to be there.” 

“I’ll forward the message.” 

“Thank you. Tell her she knows where to find me.” 

~~~

Oscar was on his fourth cigarette when a BMW pulled into the parking lot of Dwayne’s restaurant. 

Long legs in red bottoms step out of the car and it’s a tall, lithe black woman with red lipstick and hair pulled back into a bun, wearing a form-fitting black dress and jewelry. She stalks towards Oscar, takes off her sunglasses and before Oscar could form a sentence he’s embraced tightly and muffled sobs soak his dress shirt. 

~~~

“How did this happen?” Monse says after taking a long drag of her cigarette before passing it to Oscar. They sit on the bleachers of Freeridge High, the sun slowly setting.

“They said he was shot in the head. They think it’s gang-related.”

“I hate that, after everything we did to prevent that from happening, it happened anyway.” She exhales. 

“He had a choice. And he made it.” 

“Why are you so...cavalier about it?”

“It’s the truth. He stayed with me for a while, but...it didn’t work out. He was just this…” Oscar makes a sphere with his hands. 

“Ball of anger and hatred. I have a wife and kids; he can’t bring that shit over there.”

Monse nods. 

“He never...was the same when I left, was he?”

Oscar stubs out her cigarette.

“No matter what you did, the outcome would’ve been the same. He became a worse version of who I was, and...it’s like a prophecy fulfilled itself. The Diaz curse.”

“You broke the curse. You’re married and you left for Bakersfield.” She points to his wedding ring. He thumbs the ring. 

“Yeah. Guess I did.”

“I’ll cover the financial costs of his funeral and cremation. Say anything and I’ll swipe my card on it.” Monse squeezes his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He replies softly before biting back tears. 

“I just...I can’t...I can’t come to the funeral. I don’t want to see him like that and have that ingrained in my mind forever.” Monse says with a shaky breath. 

“I understand. It’s...not easy.”

“Especially if your last memory of him was…” She shoves another cigarette in her mouth and lights up. 

“Did Cesar ever tell you he was...bisexual?” she asks. 

“I’m just now finding that out about him.” He replies. She chuckles and takes another drag.

“He...he loved Ruby. He loved him more than he loved me, I think.”

“What happened between them?”

“He...did something to the effect of sabotaging Ruby’s admission to UCLA. He was afraid Ruby was gonna go off to college and forget about him, like _I_ did. His words, not mine. You do dumb shit when you’re young.”

She exhales a plume of smoke. 

“Ruby found out months after and was _pissed_.” She looks at Oscar with a grim expression.

“Ruby said some… _awful_ shit to him. And Cesar just _took it_. It’s like watching someone kick a puppy.” She shakes her head and snuffs out her cigarette.

A pause. 

“I hope they find whoever killed him.” Monse says. 

“They better find them before I do.” Oscar replies. 

“Are you going to…?”

The two lock eyes. Monse narrows her eyebrows and leans in close.

“ _Don’t do anything stupid._ ” She hisses. 

Her wristwatch chirps. 

“I have to take this call. It was nice catching up.” Monse rises from the bleachers and leaves.

Oscar sits on the bleachers, staring at the football field illuminated by the overhead lights.

_"I’m gonna create a big house, where you’ll be the chef, and you, me, and my wife live together.”_

_“How are you gonna do that with no money?”_

_”I’ll figure it out.”_

_” _We’ll_ figure it out.”_

Oscar’s pulls up the photo he held in his pocket for so long.

Oscar, a freshly initiated Santos, standing behind Cesar’s toothy grin body as he holds up his A+ from his 2nd-grade spelling bee. On the back, his mother’s handwriting writes, _Oscar and his son Cesar. 2011._

 _“You think you Cesar’s daddy, huh?”_ His mother’s voice echoes in Oscar’s head. He’s back in their dilapidated home, rocking Cesar to sleep in his crib.

_“I’m gonna be the best older brother ever.” He coos to a sleeping Cesar._

_“You’re gonna be a great father,” his mother promises, ruffling his hair._

_“Now come and help me make this dinner. Your dad is coming home tonight.”_

_“You mean it this time?”_

_“Get your ass in this kitchen before I pop you with this wooden spoon.”_

_Oscar kisses Cesar’s forehead and runs to the kitchen, tying his apron on._

Oscar tucks the photo back into his wallet and walks to his car. Popping the trunk, he sees the frightened man cower in front of him, screaming through his gag.

Oscar slides his gloves on and cracks his neck. 

“So,” He calmly says, grabbing jumper cables from the trunk. 

“Tell me who pulled the trigger.”


	4. The Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral leads to new beginnings.

The organ plays a somber tune, greeting the grievers that come in like the parted seas. Oscar sits front and center, staring at the urn that contains Cesar.

It feels...otherworldly; he wants to pinch himself to make sure these two weeks weren’t some twisted nightmare he can’t wake from. 

Monse and Jamal are sandwiched between him, rubbing and patting his shoulders and saying comforting words but he can’t hear them. Ruby sits in the far right, not making eye contact but staring at Cesar’s urn, fiddling with a ring on his finger and tightening his jaw with each breath.

The service begins: Sad Eyes, now Pastor Robert, takes the stage. 

“We are here today to pay our respects and welcome our brother, Cesar Francisco Diaz, on his journey to Heaven. I knew him in another life, and he was a good kid. A light in him that never seemed to go out.”

The musicians play their song.

“I am blessed to have known him when I could. Him and his brother Oscar, they will always be in my heart and thoughts.” Pastor Robert waves his hand to Oscar. 

Oscar rises and goes to the podium, staring out into the church. 

Family, friends, Santos members, some even from 19th Street, all look to him. 

“Cesar was born July 15th, 2003,” Oscar starts. His hand that held the eulogy he’d written for Cesar quivers.

“I loved him like he was my own son. I took him everywhere with me, I practically raised him.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues. 

“He used to love hanging out with me when he was a little kid. He wanted to be just like me. My Lil Spooky.” He laughs. The audience chuckles in response. 

“He always wanted to be an architect, and he told me his dreams of getting this big house on the beach where him, his wife, and I would live together. He was always a dreamer, and to see him get...corrupted by the world and not be here anymore...it’s hard.” He swallows. 

“We didn’t end on the best of terms, and knowing I’ll never be able to make amends, or even say sorry is painful. Life is too short. Hold on to your loved ones tight. Tell them you love them often. Whatever issue you have, speak on it and move on. Life waits for no one. No one.”

His voice cracks. He looks down, clenching the podium. His chest is too tight, he can’t breathe…

A soft hand grabs his shoulder. 

He locks eyes with Cleo’s tear-streaked face.

“It’s okay.” She whispers. She grabs his face.

“Look at me, Oscar. _It’s okay. Breathe for me, Oscar. Breathe_.” She says. His chest loosens and he inhales slowly. 

_“Get down!” Oscar shouts at Cleo as the bullets rip through her apartment._

_He tackles her to the ground, shielding her as the bullets rang out._

_Cleo starts hyperventilating and crying, digging her nails into his flesh._

_“Hey, hey, hey.” Oscar cups her face._

_“Look at me. It’s okay. Just breathe for me, Cleo. Breathe.”_

_Cleo’s breathing slows down and she sobs quietly into his shoulder as the gunfire halts._

“You got this?” Cleo asks. 

“Yeah.” Oscar bites out. 

She’s gone. Oscar picks up the eulogy he’d written for Cesar and continues. 

~~~

“ _You are my friend...I never knew, till then...my friend…_ ” Jamal croons.

Ruby is finally crying, sobbing gut-wrenching cries over the music. Monse is holding him close, rubbing his back and cooing. Oscar is holding Cesar’s urn, letting the fresh tears fall. 

_“You make me realize, the future is bright...your pain…Been around...”_ Jamal belts out. 

_“I’ve been looking around, and you were here all the time.”_ Cleo sings with the choir. The two sing in unison as Oscar rises with Cesar’s urn and walks out of the church, the crowd following suit. 

The beach’s shore welcomes him as he takes off his shoes and socks before walking to the ocean. Oscar can still hear Jamal and Cleo’s duet. 

_”I’ve been looking around, and you were here all the time...You are...my friend…”_

Cesar’s ashes were washed away by the ocean, a sea of balloons coasting in the sky. 

~~~

The repass was held at Cleo and Pastor Robert’s house. 

Oscar sits in what used to be his living room, surrounded by people and noise. His modest plate of crackers and artisanal cheeses remain untouched. Cleo wades through the crowd, her heels long forgotten. 

“This seat taken?” She asks him. 

Oscar shakes his head and makes room for her to sit. 

“You did a good job with the eulogy.” She offers. 

“You did a good job with Jamal. Haven’t heard you sing since…”

“...My graduation.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence. 

“Do you want to...go outside? It’s not as noisy.”

“I’m fine here…”

“I want to talk to you. Privately.”

When the two come to the backyard, Cleo slides the door shut, the loud chatter silenced. 

“I want to apologize. I...I was still angry and hurt about what happened when you left.”

“Cleo…”

“Let me finish. I didn’t want you to come close and undo all that I’ve worked hard for.”

“Does she know about me?”

“The only daddy she knows is Robert. I can’t really tell a five year old girl her real dad up and left while she was still in her mommy’s womb.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it.”

“My last memory of you was you _fucking me_ in the backseat of your car and disappearing the day after. Imagine my surprise when I heard how you moved to Bakersfield and got married.” Cleo chuckles. 

“Despite the fucked up situation, Gabby was one of the best things you have ever given me. I want to say thank you.” 

Oscar pauses. 

“She’s smart, stern, and gentle. She has your personality, no doubt. Sometimes when she gets serious she looks just like you it’s eerie. Robert knew then who her daddy was.” 

“How did he take it?”

“He didn’t care. She is his daughter, nobody could tell him different.” She shrugs her shoulders. 

“I know that...eventually you’d want to be in Gabriella’s life. I know you more than you know yourself. I just want to make sure we are all on the same footing before you proceed.”

She sits at the backyard patio, guiding him to sit down.

“What do you mean?” Oscar asks. 

“I don’t want you in Gabriella’s life...yet. You can be in her life slowly, and when the time is right, tell her who you are.”

“I eventually...want to take her to meet her sister and brother.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Why did you buy my house?”

“This place held too many bad memories, so I wanted to create good ones.” 

The two eye each other in silence. 

“I still love you.” Oscar confesses, grabbing her hand. Cleo smiles softly.

“I’ve never stopped loving you.” She replies, slipping her hand out of his.

“But the past is the past. I married Robert and you married someone else. We can’t...do what we did when we were younger.” 

“Right.” Oscar nods his head and looks away. 

“Who’s your wife?” Cleo asks. 

“A lawyer from Chicago. We’re moving there when our five-month-old gets older.”

“Do you love her?” 

“I do. I do. Do you love...Robert?”

“I do. He makes me happy. _Happy wife, happy life_ , he would say. He’s a phenomenal father and a wonderful husband that women pray for. I couldn’t be more...satisfied.”

“I’m glad. I knew him when he was Sad Eyes. He’s a good man.”

“Yes.” Cleo agrees. 

“You have been my lover, my friend, my knight in shining armor, for over eleven years. Despite all of what we've been through, I’m so glad I met you. I’m so happy to say I know you,” her voice breaks. 

Oscar embraces her tightly. 

“Thank you.” He says in her hair, tears streaming down his face. 

“Thank you for being the best thing I never knew I needed.” 

~~~

Oscar packs the last bag into his trunk and shuts it. He turns to face Jamal, Monse, Ruby, and Sad Eyes. 

“We wanted to give you this.” Jamal says, handing him a wrapped up box. 

“Don’t open it until you make it home.” Ruby orders. His normally all-black attire is replaced with pastel top and dark blue jeans that are rolled up at the cuffs. The top is unbuttoned down to his navel, a peek of Cesar’s birthday and initials visible. 

Jamal wasn’t lying. 

“You have all of our numbers. Don’t be a stranger.” Monse says. She hugs him before stepping back. Jamal and Ruby embrace Oscar.

“Keep in touch.” Jamal says, chucking up the deuces and walking to his car. 

Sad Eyes approaches, arms crossed.

“This is it, huh?” He asks Oscar.

“Yep.” Oscar replies. Sad Eyes cocks his head.

“I found the person who killed Cesar.” He whispers, “Do you want it handled?” 

Oscar pauses. 

The two men maintain eye contact.

~~~

Oscar pulls up to the driveway of his house, his bloodied knuckles obscured by the bandages wrapped around them. 

He doesn’t say anything to Cassadra, his father, or even Carlos. He opens the box.

There, wrapped in tissue paper, was a framed photo of Oscar, Cesar, and Cesar’s friends smiling for the camera while stuffing their face with pizza. 

He laughs at the photo, thumbing Cesar’s face before holding the frame close to his heart. He cries himself to sleep that night.

~~~

**Two Years Later**

**Chicago, Illinois**

Oscar sits beside Cassandra as their son Carlos opens his presents. Oscar’s father is bouncing his granddaughter on his lap and smiling at his son. 

“Thank you, Papa!” Carlos exclaims, holding up his Nintendo Switch. 

“Did you have to get him a pink one?” Oscar says to Cassandra. 

“You know pink is his favorite color,” Cassandra replies.

There’s a knock at the door. 

Anxiety wells up in his gut once more. 

Please don’t let there be another death in the family, please…

“I’ll get it!” Oscar says, rising from the couch and making his way to the front door. 

“Who is it?” He asks. 

“Santa Claus. We come bearing gifts!” 

Oscar opens the door and is almost knocked back by presents and Ruby pushing is way in, followed by Monse and Jamal. 

“We told you we’d be coming early. We want to get the Chicago experience!” Jamal exclaims. 

Oscar sets down the presents and is greeted by Gabriella sitting between Monse and Ruby, smiling at him. 

“Merry Christmas, Daddy.” She beams up at him, holding out her small present. 

Oscar opens the gift.

There, framed in glitter and beads, is a portrait of him, Gabriella, her brother and sister, with Cleo and Sad Eyes. In bright pink marker, is the title, “My Big Family”

“You like it?” She asks.

Oscar lets out a shaky breath. 

“I love it, sweetheart. Come here.” He swoops her up in his arms. 

He walks to the fireplace, placing Gabriella’s masterpiece next to the framed photo of Cesar and his friends. 

“Who’s that?” Gabriella asks, pointing to Cesar’s face.

“That’s uncle Cesar. He would’ve loved you.”

“Where is he?” 

“In heaven, honey.”

Gabriella frowns. She digs into her dress pocket and pulls out a marker. She takes her masterpiece and draws in another character. 

“There. Now he won’t be left out.” She tells Oscar. In this portrait is Cesar with wings and a halo flying in the far right corner of the picture. Oscar kisses her head of curls and sits back down. 

“Well let’s get this show on the road, we got presents to open!” Ruby snaps his fingers.

They talked, they laughed, they danced, they sang Christmas carols until their throats gave out. Ruby and Monse are holding onto one another laughing while Jamal and Gabriella do a dance number that’s horrible to watch. 

Oscar takes it all in and thinks, just for a moment, that Cesar is there with them, smiling and watching over them.

He knocks back the last cup of eggnog and joins Jamal and Gabriella’s dance number.


End file.
